


Charades

by Aelfgyfu



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Drama, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-31
Updated: 2010-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-13 00:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelfgyfu/pseuds/Aelfgyfu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An attack leaves Daniel unable to communicate normally, Jack's façade slips ever so slightly, and Sam does some thinking about her friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charades

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Redbyrd for her careful readings and good suggestions, and to my husband!
> 
> Disclaimers:  
> Stargate SG-1 and its characters belong to Showtime, Gekko, MGM-UA, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions, Stargate SG-1 Prod. Ltd. Partnership, and probably other persons or entities whom I've forgotten. No copyright infringement is intended. In fact, this story makes no sense if you haven't seen the show, so I encourage you to watch! And buy all the DVDs! Just like I do! Dialogue and plot (such as they are) are my own.
> 
> [Nominated for a 2007 Stargate Fan Award (Duet: Daniel and Sam)](http://www.sg-awards.com/2007/categories.php?catid=3179&parentcatid=1437)

It was only after we had Daniel back to normal again, talking a mile a minute, waving his hands around, that I could really sit down and think about what had happened. You'd think that with all we've been through the past four years plus, and especially the past year or two, this mission would have seemed pretty minor. But what happened made me really think about things we take for granted.  
   
   
   
   
I'm not even certain why we went to the planet; the MALP didn't show anything particularly interesting. I think the Colonel, or maybe the General, or both, wanted us to have a quiet mission for a change. God knows we all needed such a mission after the various bad ones over the past—well, the past year or two. But of course we didn't get one. I don't know what I really expected.  
   
The people on P3B-494 lived a simple life, but apparently they had an amazing oral history and a wealth of art: stories in song, paintings, sculptures. . . . Troyan, the head councilor, didn't like us much. He wasn't a tall man, but he was stocky and imposing, and he was in our faces as soon as we were brought to the village by a boy who had seen us walking through the trees.  
   
Troyan did not seem to want to listen to us, but Daniel did his job, first making a big show of taking off his handgun and his knife. We could see the tension decreasing in Troyan's body. Then Daniel spoke vaguely but persuasively of mutually beneficial trades, and eventually Troyan eventually agreed to let us have a look around. He even grudgingly assigned a young couple to show me the local flora and fauna. He was _not_ happy that Teal'c and the Colonel had no particular objectives and didn't want a guide, but he didn't actually try to stop them from looking around for themselves.  
   
One of their Singers introduced herself to Daniel. Troyan didn't look too pleased about that either, and some other villagers popped up to confer, but in the end, she offered to take Daniel to the House of Learning. It seemed the Singers were not just vocalists, but historians, telling the tales of everything that happened. Troyan took her aside first, and it looked like there was some argument, but she came back smiling. Of course, Daniel immediately walked off with the Singer—and without his weapons. The Colonel muttered something and picked them up. I was surprised he didn't make a fuss about Daniel being unarmed, but I gather he managed to stick pretty close to Daniel and the House of Learning, even though he never got inside.  
   
The cute young couple assigned to me were terribly friendly but not as helpful as I would have liked. I soon learned more than I wanted to know about their plans to have a family, but not a whole lot else. These people clearly had no technologies worth acquiring. But the day was pleasant, and at least the Colonel wasn't on the tour with me and the lovebirds; he must have been going out of his skull as it was. If only they'd had good fishing, three of us could have been happy, maybe four, as long as Teal'c wasn't dragged into the fishing. This wasn't a fishing village, and the nearest one was a solid day's walk away, they told us.  
   
The climate seemed a lot like I imagine Hawaii: warm but not too hot; sunny, but with lots of trees to soften the sunlight; full of tropical plants and brightly colored birds. The people we met lived mostly off subsistance farming, and I took soil samples to see if there was a reason their harvests weren't better. Naquada isn't good for growing things, but if they had it, I was sure we could work a trade that would help both sides. We could never get too much naquada. The soil was apparently good enough for a wild display of flowers, but just passable as far as edible crops go.  
   
The planet had a rainy season, but we had managed not to visit during it. At dinner I even heard the Colonel congratulating himself on having missed it, saying that for once we had good timing. Later I heard him mutter that he'd jinxed us.  
   
Daniel was in ecstasies about the Singers' tales and had to be dragged away for lunch, which was actually the main meal, and then again for dinner. At lunch he insisted that they had far more to tell him, and the Colonel should have let him stay. The Colonel griped halfheartedly. Daniel enthused about their songs, the art and decoration inside the House of Learning, and the friendliness of the people. Teal'c was mostly silent, occasionally asking a question. I told Daniel a bit about my tour, but though he asked polite questions, I could tell he wasn't that interested in the plants and animals. He showed even less interest in hearing about the cute young couple, whom I did find slightly endearing. When it finally dawned on me that hearing about them might open some of Daniel's old wounds, I shut up about them.  
   
At the light dinner it was obvious that Daniel was even more excited, but I thought it was just his usual 'meeting a new culture' excitement. When he could be bothered to talk to us, he told me that the people's progress had been held back by a complete lack of large animals to help with plows, carrying, and other aspects of agriculture. Even freedom from the Goa'uld for generations didn't help a people advance much if the resources were poor. The people were able to sustain themselves, but they didn't have the materials to get ahead.  
   
Daniel then pulled us aside after dinner, when the Colonel was about to start making his farewells. He apparently hadn't gotten along with the locals as well as Daniel or I had, and he was eager to leave.  
   
"Jack, everybody, there's something you should know," he started.  
   
"I already know, Daniel," the Colonel answered smugly.  
   
"You do?" Daniel's face lit up. "So we can stay? I mean—"  
   
"No, Daniel." We'd all been through this conversation before. I sighed and slouched a little. Maybe I should just sit down. This could take a while.  
   
"No?" Daniel was not just crestfallen; he was incredulous. I started to wonder if the Colonel had cut him off too soon. "How can you say that? When—"  
   
Simultaneously, the Colonel said, "I know, they have a unique culture—"  
   
Daniel looked exasperated. "You _don't_ know what I was going to tell you. In fact, you have _no idea_."  
   
Now I knew the Colonel had stopped him too soon. Oh, boy. The Colonel looked uncertain for just a moment, and then he put on a neutral expression and tried to cover his mistake. He might as well not try.  
   
Daniel crossed his arms and glared. He had decided to make the Colonel ask him. Great. I leaned against a tree. This would _definitely_ be a long wait.  
   
"DanielJackson," said the voice of reason, which on this team usually belongs to Teal'c, "what have you learned?"  
   
Daniel gave Teal'c a little smile and turned to face him—and a bit away from the Colonel. He was magnanimous enough to include me in his gaze. "The Goa'uld _used_ to come here, but they don't anymore." He paused to let it sink in.  
   
"So tell us, Daniel," the Colonel said in a sing-song, " _why_ don't the Goa'uld come here anymore?"  
   
Daniel turned so he could face the Colonel a little more. " _That's_ what I don't know, and why we have to stay. You know that Troyan told the Singer only to tell us certain songs?" The Colonel nodded. I had missed this, but I wasn't surprised. Daniel's arms uncrossed as he started to use his hands to talk. "Well, this isn't among the songs he let her sing, so I don't have the details." His annoyance was evaporating as he got going.  
   
"Then how do you know?" the Colonel asked slowly.  
   
"I asked about the Goa'uld specifically. She told me that they haven't been here in twenty-three generations!" He spread his hands wide. "And they count generations a little differently than we do—I'd like you to go over this with me, Sam, because I'm not exactly certain of the length of their years, but their generations seem to be roughly eighteen of our years, so that's—"  
   
"414 years?" I asked, pleased with my quick calculations.  
   
"Yes!" he said with even more enthusiasm. "And of course I asked her _why_ , but it was just before you showed up, Jack"—he turned a half-hearted glare on the Colonel—"and she said she'd need permission to tell me anyway."  
   
We digested that information briefly. "Does she seem concerned that there may be more Goa'uld incursions?" Teal'c asked.  
   
"No! She says they'll never come back. I tried to ask if they rebelled, but that's when Jack got into an argument with the other apprentice."  
   
"Oops." The Colonel shrugged.  
   
"He tried to come _in_!" Daniel crossed his arms again.  
   
"Hey, I could _see_ you; I didn't think I was interrupting anything."  
   
Daniel lowered his head a little, looking at the Colonel through the tops of his glasses. "You know how long I had to spend convincing them even to let me in there." It didn't seem that long to me, but I suppose it was very long in Daniel-years: time spent _waiting_ to learn about new culture instead of actually _learning_ about it can't be reckoned on normal human time-scales. "So we _have_ to stay," he concluded, "because I'm sure with a little more time, I can hear the story! Soronu says she _will_ get permission from Troyan."  
   
The Colonel sighed, but even with the now-slanting shadows I could see some interest in his eyes. More than that, I could see amusement, and it had been a while since I'd seen that look on his face. He still grumbled, "If they're as friendly with you as they have been with me, it's a waste of time."  
   
"Well, obviously they're _more_ friendly with me, if what I saw of your interactions with Troyan and the Singers were any indication."  
   
"I'll phone Hammond, clear it with him." The tone was a little gruff, but I knew from the speed with which he gave in that he was actually pleased to have a mission Daniel could really sink his teeth into. I could see from Daniel's smile that he knew too. The Colonel had tried to give Daniel some breaks before, but they backfired horribly: a quiet archaeology field trip turned out to be on a on a planet that held Unas _and_ aboriginal Goa'uld; a visit to an abandoned "pleasure palace" wiped out an entire SG team and nearly killed Daniel too. The Colonel seemed finally to have decided that if Daniel was going to have a good mission, _we_ had better be the team with him. Not that we managed to prevent what happened that night.  
   
An hour later the Colonel was back to say that we could stay another day, and I knew from Daniel's face that we'd go through the same process tomorrow. I was happy for Daniel and satisfied that I could find something interesting for myself, as long as I managed to lose those sweet young guides. One day with them was fun, but two would be . . . tiring. I'm afraid one tropical bird looked much like another to me, and I didn't have any use for them (at least until dinner, as it turned out, but even then they didn't have a lot of meat), and I hadn't quite done all I intended. Another day would be good: fresh air, beautiful country, and no running for our lives.  
   
Troyan did not look pleased at the news, but when Daniel reminded him that we might become trading partners even though we knew they really didn't have a surplus of food and I hadn't found anything else of use yet, he told us he would find a place where we could spend the night. Daniel ran back to the House of Learning to confirm to the Singers that he'd be staying while we went to stow all our packs in the little hovel that Troyan had not-so-graciously had someone show us. The hut was close to a row of latrines, which did not please me or the Colonel, but Teal'c said nothing, and I doubted Daniel would even notice.  
   
Of course Daniel didn't take his weapons, which the Colonel was still carrying around, to my surprise. He didn't take his pack because the Colonel wouldn't let him—he said he wanted to make sure that Daniel came back and got some sleep. I know he was right; the only reason Daniel would have wanted his pack would be to take notes, or video or audio tape if they'd let him. I really wish he had taken it, though. Maybe he could have hit somebody with it: it weighs enough to knock out the Colonel if he gives it a good swing, and it would slow down even Teal'c.  
   
   
   
   
We had finished rehanging the sagging mat that was supposed to cover the doorway and setting up our sleeping bags on top of the woven mats that Troyan had provided when our radios sounded. I stopped unlacing my boot. I heard Daniel's voice, but I couldn't make out the words, which came all in a rush. Soon there was nothing.  
   
"Daniel?" the Colonel asked. "Repeat!" Nothing. To us he barked: "Grab your weapons! And flashlights!" the Colonel shouted as he preceded us outside, P-90 in one hand and flashlight in the other. As we ran out that a couple of boys took off in another direction at our flight, doubtless to tell Troyan. The Colonel made another attempt or two to contact Daniel as we ran.  
   
The Colonel used his flashlight to light the ground now that long shadows were falling, but it didn't help much; the beam bounced around crazily, and soon after we left the hut the ground was too uneven to tell at a run whether we were looking at a tree branch, a shadow, or an ankle-breaking hole in the ground. Teal'c and I didn't even bother to turn our lights on as we went. We did make it safely, but more slowly than any of us would have liked; it wasn't much faster than a walk. All those vines that trailed out of trees and snaked across the ground might look nice in the daytime, but not at night.  
   
When the Colonel's flashlight beam reached the House of Learning's long wood porch in front of us a few minutes later, we saw figures freeze momentarily and then disappear into the dark. We'd come up on the side of the porch, so we ran around to the steps in front. Daniel was on his hands and knees, breathing oddly and looking up wildly as we approached. Around him were five bodies—all dead, Teal'c confirmed while I tried to examine Daniel with the help of the flashlight the Colonel held. By now, of course, a group from the village was near, with a number of torches.  
   
The cause of Daniel's problems was obvious. Someone had tried to garrotte him with a rope or cord; I could see one on the porch near him. His neck was swelling, and no doubt his throat too, as I quickly told the Colonel. Before I could say anything more, or even really examine Daniel, Troyan and a group of villagers were on us. The councilor was momentarily silenced by shock, or more likely anger, when he saw the bodies. People kept coming.  
   
Daniel was gasping for breath, but he was still trying to communicate. When he couldn't get any intelligible sounds out, he tried to signal something with his hands, making repeated gestures that I couldn't follow. "Daniel, no, I think you should rest." I tried to cover his hands with mine, but he snatched them away. "If that swelling gets worse, sir, he could have real trouble breathing," I said to the Colonel, adding more loudly, "I need my pack! Can someone get my pack, please?"  
   
I could hear Troyan objecting, and apparently no one went. I should have pushed harder to get it, but with an angry crowd of people around us, I was having a little trouble keeping my thoughts straight. Colonel O'Neill looked from me to Daniel. Daniel was shaking his head and trying to mouth words, but it was too dark to play this game, even with flashlights and torches.  
   
Still, when the Colonel insisted that Daniel wouldn't rest until he told us what he wanted, I knew he was right. Teal'c had found Daniel's glasses somewhere and bent them back into more or less the right shape before gently putting them on Daniel's face. Daniel flinched in spite of Teal'c's gentleness.  
   
Daniel held up his left hand with four fingers extended. "Four!" I cried out. I've always been good at charades. "Four words?" Daniel frowned. "Four . . . syllables?" That seemed long, even for Daniel, under the circumstances.  
   
Daniel shook his head slightly in disgust, a gesture the Colonel unconsciously imitated with more animation. "Four men," the Colonel said with certainty. Daniel nodded, then shook his head. He pointed at me, the Colonel, and Teal'c. "Four? Four . . . four people!" Daniel nodded again, showing now three fingers and now one. "Three men and a woman?" the Colonel guessed. Wow. That was impressive.  
   
I looked around for something Daniel could use to write. No one in the crowd, of course, seemed to have anything on them. "Do you have pen and paper?" I asked, remembering that he'd left his pack. "Can you write out what happened?" Daniel started feeling his pockets gingerly with his left hand, not using the right at all; the Colonel helped him.  
   
Troyan went to examine the bodies personally, stomping away from us but taking surprising care with the bodies.  
   
"We checked," the Colonel told him with resignation as he continued to root through Daniel's many pockets. "There was nothing we could do." Into a pile on the wooden porch went a mechanical pencil, some candy, a couple of granola bars, Tylenol, and a little container that probably held antihistamines. He must have left his journal and pens in his pack. Daniel tried to write on the little Tylenol packs, but it clearly wasn't working. "They're all dead," the Colonel added unnecessarily.  
   
Troyan and others checked each one for breath, tossing looks of anger and contempt our way when they felt nothing. The torches were a nice touch. They made me think of old monster movies. The rest of the crowd had been muttering angrily, but once it was determined that all the other victims were really dead, there was a silence that was even more frightening.  
   
"Daniel's the only witness," the Colonel said, "and right now, he can't talk. Much," he added when Daniel poked him in the arm. Troyan came closer. He wasn't a large man, but he was stocky, and he made me nervous. He was soon hovering right over us. Daniel didn't seem to be paying much attention to him; he was looking at the Colonel. "He says four people came, three men and a woman."  
   
"And killed five of our people, leaving your man alive?" Troyan said in obvious disbelief. He picked up a short piece of rope from the wooden porch.  
   
"Well, the alternative is that we four killed five of your people and then pretended to kill one of our own," the Colonel said, "and I'm not sure how the four of us could do five of yours without getting a mark on us."  
   
Ooh. I could identify the problems with that statement right off the bat, but it wouldn't win me any points with the Colonel. I've heard of people sputtering in anger, but I'm not sure I've ever seen such a dramatic example. Troyan spit on me in the process. "You could easily defeat our _elders_. He has a mark," he added triumphantly, pointing at Daniel's neck—and arms, which were bruised and scratched. I hadn't noticed until then in the flickering flashlight. I finally turned on my own flashlight and ran it over his arms and hands better, but he kept his right hand almost but not quite closed in a fist. "You selected the one of you who was injured—"  
   
Daniel shook his head and started his account over. He held up four fingers, then three, then one. "Four people," the Colonel reiterated as if he were speaking to a slow child, "three men and one woman." Daniel tried to rise, but I pushed him back against the railing. He glared at me, but I wasn't about to let him pass out. Even if he didn't care about his own well-being, I did. And he'd better stay conscious until we had this sorted out, or we might all end up dead. He pointed out into the darkness.  
   
"They hid in the dark?" I guessed.  
   
Daniel shook his head cautiously and then held his left hand, fingers down, moving the index and second finger, like someone—  
   
"Walking!" the Colonel exclaimed. Daniel moved his fingers faster, though it obviously hurt. "The attackers ran"—Daniel pointed southwest again—"that way!" We hadn't been able to tell which way they'd disappeared as we came up to the porch. The Colonel looked at Troyan. "You might send someone. And where are our packs?"  
   
"If I believed you, I might," Troyan snapped. Yet he wasn't making a move against us; he obviously wanted more. His fists were clenched, his legs spread apart. He looked like he wanted a fight; we needed to make sure it wasn't with us.  
   
Daniel leaned back against the railing, licking his lips a little as he considered how to continue the narrative. He suddenly made a show of . . . hugging the Colonel? "Nice as this is," the Colonel started. Daniel suddenly waved his arms as if drawing a loop around the Colonel's neck. "Ah," the Colonel said. "They pretended to greet your people, then strangled them with those ropes." Troyan was still suspicious.  
   
"And what did you do, Daniel?" prompted the Colonel.  
   
Daniel did the walking fingers again, right up to the porch railing. He then jumped the fingers over the railing, being careful not to touch the wood with his injured fingers. He pointed to the north side of the railing, the direction from which we'd come.  
   
"He ran?" roared Troyan, sticking an accusing finger almost in Daniel's face. "He was not killed because—"  
   
"No," said the Colonel in exasperation, "he must not have been _on_ the porch when it started! He jumped the porch railing—after calling us, right, Daniel?" Daniel gave a sort of half-nod and pointed to his radio. " _While_ calling us," the Colonel corrected himself, "which is why we couldn't understand a word." Daniel nodded more fully this time. It _was_ a heck of a jump. None of us even tried it. No wonder he'd hurt his right hand, which he must have used to help himself over the rail.  
   
He did the fingers jumping the rail again, and then began a gesture of embrace, this time leaning forward to use me and touching me very lightly. He then mimed putting a rope around someone's neck. All right, we had that much. Then Daniel pointed to himself and waved his hands around my face; I automatically started back. Was he having a fit?  
   
To my surprise, the Colonel said, "Okay, so you slipped your hand between the rope and somebody's neck. Not the kind of defense I'd recommend, Daniel." I think that Daniel glared as best he could in the light of flashlights and torches, but I pretty much had to supply the look on his face from my imagination. "So you cut your hand?" the Colonel continued. Daniel nodded a little. "So you cut your hand on the rope. . . ." Daniel nodded and put his hand near my face again. This time I held still. He had the back of his hand against my ear and neck. "So you got your hand between the neck and the rope"—Daniel nodded and pulled his right hand towards himself, his fingers curling, probably involuntarily—"and you tried to pull the rope away." Daniel jerked one foot suddenly and then pointed . . . at his groin? He did seem a little hesitant. "So then they kicked you in the balls," the Colonel continued with a slight wince. Daniel nodded very slightly and leaned back suddenly onto the railing; "and you fell over."  
   
Daniel mimed grabbing the Colonel's arms. "You grabbed their arms." Daniel held up a single finger. "One of them." Daniel nodded. God, this was going to take all night! At least Daniel was still breathing; it didn't sound good, but he was getting air.  
   
Troyan was starting to interrupt; I think it was only disbelief that had kept him silent this long. All the others seemed to be following his lead and watching us closely. I grabbed Daniel's right wrist. "Let me get a good look at your hand, Daniel. Let _everyone_ see your hand." Daniel relaxed it, but it stayed slightly curled, and his fingers were twitching a little. I lowered his hand to rest on his leg as the Colonel had the guts to jump up, grab Troyan by the shoulder, and push him to lean over Daniel.  
   
I swear Troyan snarled. I jumped a little. I could hardly blame the man; _I_ was having trouble believing this little show. Between the closeness of the crowd and the torches all around, I was starting to sweat.  
   
I could see a rough area on Daniel's palm with a couple of obvious splinters that surely came from the porch railing he'd hurdled, but his fingers looked even worse. "He probably scraped his hand on the railing, but most of it looks like rope burn," I said. When I looked closer, I could in fact still see fibers embedded in the skin; brilliant deduction, Holmes. "It's really bad, though. We need to clean. . . ." Daniel snatched his hand back. "I need my pack." I checked Daniel's other hand. The burns there were much less deep and mostly on the fingertips.  
   
"But there are five dead, one living, and he says there were only four attackers!" Troyan exclaimed, his face inches from the Colonel's.  
   
"Yeah," the Colonel replied, leaning back and wrinkling his nose. "if we wanted to come up with a better story, we would have," he said casually. Then he shouted, "It sounds stupid because we didn't make it up!" Daniel flinched visibly at the volume, though Troyan didn't budge. "Sorry," the Colonel said gently to Daniel, putting a hand on his shoulder.  
   
Daniel tried again to rise. The Colonel and I both held him against the railing. He jabbed his left index finger into the darkness farther back on the long porch.  
   
"He is trying to indicate something," Teal'c said. I stared; usually Teal'c had more helpful things to say.  
   
Daniel shook his head again but this time moved both hands to his neck, which was obviously bothering him. "Easy," the Colonel said, his forehead deeply furrowed in the dim light. Daniel pointed again. Teal'c stepped in the direction Daniel was pointing. "Is that it?" the Colonel asked. Daniel shook his head slightly and grabbed my flashlight awkwardly by reaching his left arm across his body to where I sat on his right. He directed the beam towards one of the dead bodies.  
   
Troyan had gone over to look again. "It is Ritanu," he said with controlled but unmistakable sadness. He wasn't surprised, having checked the bodies before, but I felt a sudden sympathy with his grief.  
   
"Daniel's nodding," the Colonel noted.  
   
Daniel raised his left hand and carefully pointed to his thumb and then each finger in turn. Then he pointed to Ritanu. The Colonel didn't say anything. Daniel repeated the gesture, this time mouthing something. "Oh! One, two, three, four—Ritanu was the fifth victim. So," he asked Daniel, "they left her for last. . . ." He trailed off.  
   
Daniel jabbed a finger at the body again, then put his arms behind his back. Okay, I was lost.  
   
"She had no arms," Teal'c tried. "No weapons?" I nearly cheered for him and had to remind myself not to keep my head in the game, but that it _wasn't_ a game.  
   
"Armless!" the Colonel shouted. "She was 'armless! Harmless!" Daniel nodded, and the Colonel clapped him very lightly on the shoulder. I gaped for a moment before I saw him look at me; I closed my mouth. I couldn't believe he got that, and so quickly too. Daniel didn't even make the sign for "sounds like"!  
   
Daniel pointed at the body yet again, hunched his shoulders, and made a funny rasping noise while pointing towards his throat; I had him back against the railing in an instant and was shining my light in his face, only to have the Colonel pull me away.  
   
"Carter, he's just saying that that Rita person was killed last because she couldn't call for help." The Colonel was obviously not impressed with me.  
   
"How the hell—" I broke off because I shouldn't curse out my CO, although I certainly had cause. "Look, he has an injured throat! He could stop breathing! And I'm supposed to know when he's breathing heavy because he's hurt and when he's breathing heavy because he's imitating someone?" I was yelling and looking at the Colonel, but I saw a motion and realized that Daniel was shrugging. The corners of his mouth turned up a little in what was probably supposed to be an apologetic smile but looked more like a need for morphine.  
   
Troyan ignored me but responded to Daniel. "She is the eldest of our people. For many years, she was our best Singer of Tales, but her voice failed. She could not shout for help; she can only manage a whisper." But he wasn't convinced yet: "Why did they not kill him?"  
   
"Because we arrived!" the Colonel answered for him. He could have mentioned that Daniel _did_ actually have some training in hand-to-hand combat. I tried, but I got cut off.  
   
Troyan snorted. "And only he survived." I could almost swear he was about to say, "Yeah, right," but that wasn't how he talked. "If he did see the attackers, he can describe them."  
   
"Like this?" I objected. I thought we'd gotten enough of the story, even though Daniel was nodding as emphatically as he could under the circumstances, which meant his head was hardly moving. "Did _anyone_ go for my pack?" The murmurs suddenly stilled.  
   
"Get her pack!" Troyan shouted to the assembled crowd. Finally we were getting somewhere. I heard running footsteps; a whole gang of them must have gone. The crowd didn't look any thinner, though. "The attackers?" he demanded of Daniel.  
   
"Yeah!" said the Colonel.  
   
"Before they get far," Troyan said. He still looked skeptical, but even he could tell that Daniel was working really hard to communicate, and his very real injuries looked like they were inflicted by the same attackers, putting the same kind of rope around his neck—not by victims fighting back.  
   
I needed to examine Daniel. I wished I had a glare like Daniel did. Or the Colonel. Shoot, Teal'c has the best glare of any of us. I can't compete. "We can't keep doing this! Look, do _you_ want to do an emergency tracheotomy?" I asked the Colonel.  
   
"Can't," he replied. "we'd need a pen." Daniel suddenly waved the mechanical pencil in his left hand. I lost my squatting position and fell back on my butt in surprise. "Oh," the Colonel said, "guess we're okay then."  
   
"Perhaps if we intubate we could avoid a tracheotomy," Teal'c suggested.  
   
"Great! Do you have experience intubating?" I snarled at Teal'c. "And did you bring medical tubing?" He needs to stop watching those hospital shows. Or watch better ones.  
   
"Don't suppose we can use this?" The Colonel was now holding the pencil but sounded very dubious, thank God.  
   
Daniel held up four fingers again. Then he held up one. He was probably desperate to distract us before that pencil ended up sticking out of him somewhere; I was sure he regretted showing it to us. "Four attackers," the Colonel reviewed. "One was a woman." Daniel hesitated, then nodded a little. He reached out and patted my head tentatively.  
   
"Blond hair!" I guessed, remembering that we hadn't seen anyone on the planet with it. Well, that should make short work of identification—except that Daniel was frowning. He waved his hand, keeping it parallel to the ground, and touched the top of my head gently.  
   
"About Sam's height?" the Colonel guessed.  
   
Daniel then fingered his own hair and the Colonel's. "Your color hair?" I tried. Daniel nodded—sort of.  
   
"Dark hair, anyway," the Colonel supplied. Daniel nodded a little more. "Length?" prodded the Colonel. Daniel seemed to be looking at the gathered people, but with the lights in his face he really couldn't see. He put his hand on the Colonel's back, about eight inches below the Colonel's collar. "Good!"  
   
"Braided or loose?" I thought to ask, remembering that the women I'd seen seemed to be split about 50/50 among those categories. Daniel frowned and started to wave his hands uncertainly.  
   
The Colonel sighed. "How about a yes or no question, Carter?" he said, but he didn't give me time to rephrase before he asked, "Braided?" Daniel shook his head. "Loose?" Daniel nodded.  
   
"Identifying marks?" asked Teal'c.  
   
"Good one!" the Colonel cheered.  
   
Daniel frowned and shook his head. "None?" the Colonel tried. Daniel frowned but didn't shake his head. "Couldn't see any?" Daniel nodded. How did the Colonel know?  
   
"Clothing?" Teal'c asked. "Weapons?"  
   
Daniel tried to stand again. The Colonel joined me in pushing him back down. He made a strangled sound and I tightened my grip on his shoulder, waiting to see if it was frustration, pain, or inability to breathe. He pointed at someone in the crowd.  
   
"You can't accuse her!" Troyan bellowed, making fists again. I rubbed my ear. God! Maybe he had a hearing problem and didn't realize how loud he was. His volume more than made up for Daniel's lack of it. I really wished he wouldn't spray so much, either, though I knew it was a petty thought.  
   
The strangled sound this time came from the Colonel. "I think he's _trying_ to indicate what the woman was wearing!"  
   
By this time, of course, the poor, frightened woman had been pushed to the front. Daniel gingerly touched the hem of her skirt with his left hand.  
   
"Her skirt," the Colonel began. Daniel dropped the hem and made it to his feet this time before we could stop him. He touched Troyan's fine white shirt. I jumped to my feet and stood by Daniel's arm, trying to be ready to catch him when he went down—especially if Troyan knocked him down, as seemed likely. The Colonel was on his other side. Daniel's breathing hadn't gotten worse, but it hadn't improved either, and Troyan was continuing to growl. It was sounding like a zoo. With everyone packed so close, it kind of smelled like one, too. . . .  
   
"Shirt? I don't follow," the Colonel said. I was perversely relieved at his mystification.  
   
Daniel pointed at Troyan's shirt and the woman's skirt again. "The color!" I exclaimed. Daniel shook his head and rubbed Troyan's shirt material carefully between two fingers on his left hand.  
   
"The material!" Damn. The Colonel beat me to it. Troyan's shirt was clearly made of a light material. This woman's skirt, like most others I had seen, was coarse and heavy.  
   
"A skirt of such fine material?" Troyan frowned. He asked more quietly, "What color?" His low tone seemed more threatening than his shouting; did this description ring a bell?  
   
Daniel glanced around, but it was hard to see colors in all that flickering light. He pointed into the shadows, then opened his right hand and pointed to his angry palm. "Red?" I asked in surprise.  
   
Daniel shrugged a little. "Might be red," the Colonel tried, as Daniel tried to combine a shrug and a nod without actually moving too much, "but too dark to be sure?" Daniel nodded. How the hell did the Colonel get from Daniel's palm to "might be red; too dark to be sure"?  
   
"Melindru!" Troyan's face had a hard look. I had thought he was frightening before, but now, in the flickering light, he looked murderous. He looked around the group, and I noticed the others looking around too. Troyan pointed at a few men, then pointed in the direction Daniel had indicated earlier, and they were off. The others turned back to us.  
   
"You know who he described?" the Colonel demanded. Troyan clenched his jaw so hard I felt like I could hear teeth grinding. He nodded once, hard.  
   
"Now who else did you see?"  
   
"Whom," the Colonel corrected under his breath. "Three men," he reminded us all. Daniel nodded and held up a finger. "The first," the Colonel said. Daniel put a hand, palm down, next to his own face, at about eye level.  
   
"As tall as your eyes," Teal'c said with a trace of smugness. _I_ certainly wasn't going to tell him we'd all gotten that one.  
   
"And they all had rope?" Troyan picked up one of the pieces of rope. Daniel nodded. "They were with Melindru, and they used rope, not knives?"  
   
"Knives would leave blood; they might have to change their clothes," I guessed, thinking that people living at subsistence level couldn't easily destroy clothes without someone noticing the change.  
   
"Rope would leave little evidence," Teal'c agreed.  
   
Daniel suddenly made odd gestures with his hands. Washing hands? I was mystified. "Gloves!" the Colonel announced triumphantly. "They wore gloves to protect their hands!"  
   
"They'd have to be thick gloves," I said, looking again at Daniel's hands.  
   
Troyan, to my surprise, had apparently heard enough. He gestured for the crowd to clear and called several other people by name. The Colonel was on his feet too. "Carter, you stay with Daniel. Make sure he keeps breathing," the Colonel added unnecessarily. "Report every 30—sooner if—" He broke off as Troyan started through the crowd, but I knew what he meant. The Colonel nearly collided with Teal'c, who fell in right behind Troyan; other men joined the crowd and soon most of the men were gone, and some of the women and boys.  
   
"Sit down!" I yelled at Daniel. "Sorry," I said, as he simply dropped to the wood floor again, giving me a shocked look I could recognize even though only torchlight and not flashlights lit his face now. "I got used to all the yelling." Daniel smiled a little and pointed to his ear. "I know. I think I've got hearing damage too." Daniel leaned against the railing tiredly. I remembered that I really needed to treat his injuries. The crowd was no longer an undifferentiated mass; there were many fewer people, and I could even recognize a few of them. I sent one of the women who remained, I think the one whose skirt Daniel touched, to get some water.  
   
"No more talking," I cautioned. Daniel opened his mouth and pointed, then started moving his lips exaggeratedly but not making a sound. I think he mouthed, "I'm not talking!" I could almost see the exclamation point in his expression. He closed his eyes, and I patted his shoulder. I checked my watch. We'd probably been with him a good ten minutes, and we must have arrived five or more minutes after he tried to contact us. About fifteen minutes, then; how long until I didn't need to worry that the swelling would worsen? I wished I knew. The woman appeared on Daniel's other side with a skin of water.  
   
"Good! Drink it slowly," I warned. Daniel gave me a look that clearly said, "Do you think I'm stupid?" and took the offered skin of water from her.  
   
Soon several young boys returned with four packs. I thanked them, wishing I could remember anyone's name; we'd probably met them at one of the meals. Daniel would remember. I found my pack, pulled out my medkit, and played the flashlight over Daniel's hands, arms, and face. This time he didn't resist, but he did turn his face away, and I saw him clenching his eyes shut as I got what I needed out of the medkit. "First things first," I said, digging out a small prepared syringe of steroids. "This should help with the swelling."  
   
He shuddered a little as I injected it as close to the injury as I could without actually touching the damaged area. I pulled out another syringe, this one with a painkiller, but Daniel shook his head enough so that it obviously hurt. He picked up the packet of Tylenol he'd dropped on the porch earlier.  
   
"You can't swallow pills!" I reminded him. "They might not make it safely through your throat!" Daniel set his mouth, and I knew I couldn't win this one. He wanted to be sure he could answer more questions; the painkillers might put him to sleep. I could see that more answers might be necessary, although I hoped it wouldn't come to that. Now that I thought about it, though, I remembered the morphine could cause difficulty breathing. Daniel had never had a problem with it in the past, but if he were ever going to start, this would probably be the time.  
   
Daniel made odd little noises as I cleaned and bandaged the worst of the abrasions across his palm and then his fingers. Schrödinger used to sound like that when I clipped his claws or had to give him medicine. I pretended I couldn't hear the whimpers because I didn't know what to say. I obviously couldn't tell him that this wouldn't hurt.  
   
His arms weren't so bad; he was wearing his short-sleeved t-shirt and had left his jacket at the hut because it was so warm, but I saw mostly abrasions and bruises on his arms. As I was bandaging his hands, I noticed that his knuckles were bruised and cut, and those didn't look like rope burns. "You landed a few hits?" I asked in surprise; I thought the first thing he had done was to get a hand under one of the ropes. He nodded very carefully. "Even _after_ your hands got injured?" He nodded again. "Good job!" He frowned. Okay, that had sounded a little condescending. As the Colonel would say, deal with it. I have way more hand-to-hand training and experience than Daniel will ever get, I hope.  
   
I had always felt close to Daniel, from the first time I met him. Even before, reading reports of that first mission, I was sure I would have liked him; I was sorry he had died. When I learned he was alive, I was thrilled to meet him! We clicked from the start. He understood me, and when he didn't, he listened anyway and kept asking questions and _trying_ to understand. He was never dismissive, though I _do_ know, even if some people think I don't, that I get too excited, I talk too much and too fast, and I go right over some people's heads. Daniel responded to my enthusiasms, and I found the same kind of excitement in him. It was so genuine, it usually didn't matter that he was excited about things I never would have looked twice at without him. Those years when Mark was still not speaking to me or my dad, it crossed my mind more than once that Daniel was the brother I'd wanted—should have had, I thought in my most selfish moments.  
   
I finished with his arms, bandaging the one scrape that seemed deep and looked like it had come from wood; he must have hit one of the benches on the porch, I figured, but I was tired of the pantomime and knew he must be, so I didn't ask.  
   
We understood each other. Why couldn't I understand him when it really counted? Was it the bad year we all seemed to be having? I guess that between that whole business with Orlin, and then discovering that Narim still harbored deep feelings for me only to lose him again, I had withdrawn a bit from all my teammates.  
   
I had to push those thoughts to the back of my mind. I finished cleaning everything, and Daniel had a few more swallows of water. "Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. "Let's see your neck again."  
   
Daniel tilted his head back, closing his eyes. The swelling was frightening, and I could see that the whole area was badly discolored, even in the poor lighting. I moved my hand near it and he flinched. Probably touching it wouldn't actually tell me anything, and I could aggravate it, I feared, so I backed off. Bandaging the outside wouldn't do any good; it was the inside, the throat, that worried me. I couldn't see any change since the injection a few minutes ago, but then again, I really didn't expect any visible change. If nothing else, I hoped it would keep things from getting worse.  
   
"I guess that's all I can do right now," I said apologetically as I repacked the medkit. Daniel nodded a little. "I think it would be better if you didn't do that," I added. Daniel froze. "Don't nod or shake your head," I clarified, then realized that he couldn't acknowledge without doing what I'd just told him not to do. He mouthed an exaggerated "thanks" and leaned his head back against the railing for a moment, but then his eyes flew open again. He pointed at the packs.  
   
"Daniel, I don't think—" He moved heavily off the railing and pushed my pack aside. I gave up and gave him his pack. I wasn't really surprised that he pulled out a pen and his journal. I also wasn't surprised that he discovered he couldn't really hold a pen in his now-bandaged right hand, but Daniel seemed to be; his eyes went wide as he dropped the pen into his lap. He shifted a bit, opened the journal to a blank page, and moved the pen to his left hand.  
   
"Carter, report!"  
   
Damn! I was two minutes late. I updated the Colonel on Daniel's condition. "What's your status, sir?"  
   
"Troyan's got this Melinda person." Suddenly Daniel tapped my arm. He wrote something and pointed to the scrawl. It was almost impossible to read, very unlike his normal writing, but given the context, I could figure it out. "Daniel says it's 'Melindru,' sir."  
   
"He's talking?" The Colonel's surprise was tinged with anger and concern.  
   
"No, sir! We've got our packs, and he's writing. With his left hand," I added, as Daniel shoved the notebook back under my face and tapped the radio with the pen. "It's kind of hard to read. . . ." I tried, however, and soon I was able to report, "He's giving more descriptions, sir. He says all the men were big, heavy. He doesn't think he met them before tonight. One had some kind of eye injury; he didn't see a whole lot, and their clothes weren't distinctive." Actually, what Daniel had written was:  
Men big & heavy  
didn't meet today  
1 i injured  
clothes not distinct'v  
cdnt see much  
   
"I'll pass it on," the Colonel promised. "Carter. . . ."  
   
"Daniel's fine, sir," I said because he mouthed the word at me. "Well, not fine," I corrected before the Colonel could answer, "but he's no worse, at least. I think he's doing . . . okay."  
   
I kept Daniel sitting up because I didn't want more blood pooling in the swollen area, but I did pull out a couple of emergency blankets and put one over him, though it really wasn't cold. The other I rolled up and put behind his head, which was leaning against the wooden railing. We waited in silence, with Daniel taking occasional sips of water.  
   
Within fifteen minutes, the Colonel was on the horn again. "Got two more of them, Carter," he said. "And they were with three other guys, so it's going to be a matter of figuring out which one was the last attacker. And you know what? I'm not sure I want to be involved in finding out. Teal'c thinks he does, though."  
   
"That's great, sir," I said a little less than enthusiastically. "Do you think Troyan will let us go home now?"  
   
"Is Daniel still doing all right?" The Colonel sounded worried again.  
   
"He's about the same, sir. I'm not as worried as I was, but I think Janet should see him."  
   
"I'll ask Troyan." The radio was silent for a minute or two, but then the Colonel was back. "We can go. Teal'c and I will head back your way. ETA ten minutes; we've been running around in circles more than anything else. But unless you really think we need to go tonight, we should just crash at the hut. It's pretty damned dark now, and I don't want Daniel stumbling around in it on top of his injuries."  
   
I realized that he was right. It was almost half an hour's walk to the Stargate in daylight if we were all in perfect health. There wasn't even a good path to it; Daniel had insisted that was significant, but I had forgotten about it until Daniel told us the Goa'uld hadn't visited in centuries.  
   
Daniel looked like he was going to protest, but he waited until the Colonel and Teal'c were back on the porch with us several minutes later. He clumsily picked up the journal and pen, but the Colonel snatched the journal at a speed that made Daniel's head snap back against the railing. "Sorry," the Colonel muttered as Daniel looked at him stunned. "No objections. We're just going back to the hovel—I mean hut. We'll leave when it's full light."  
   
We were bending to pick up our packs, with Teal'c taking Daniel's journal and sliding it into Daniel's pack, so the Colonel completely missed Daniel's next gesture. I didn't feel the need to call attention to it, but it was hard not to giggle. I don't know what culture it was from, but I'm pretty sure it was rude.  
   
   
   
   
Of course, only Daniel slept that night. Teal'c offered to keep watch outside the hut the whole night, and the Colonel gave himself first watch over Daniel to make sure he didn't stop breathing. His breathing did seem to have eased a little, but we couldn't be sure, and it would be stupid to let Daniel die because we weren't paying enough attention. Daniel can't just stop breathing. He's cheated death so many times already that it only seems fair that when he goes, it should be something dramatic and meaningful—not that I would ever say that to him.  
   
I pretended to sleep while Daniel really did fall asleep, well propped up on a sleeping mat and some cushions the Troyan's people had brought. Troyan seemed happy with us now, the Colonel said, but he was too busy "questioning" the suspects to talk to us. If Daniel had been more alert, he might have realized what this questioning probably involved, and then he would have objected, but of course we took care to distract him. It was also hard for him to ask questions once Teal'c had confiscated all his writing implements and his journal.  
   
After I'd pretended to sleep long enough, I kind of kept the Colonel company. We couldn't really talk, both because we didn't want to wake Daniel and because we were afraid we might miss breathing problems if we did. And what was there to say, really? I wanted to ask the Colonel how he could understand Daniel, but how could he possibly answer that? It was a very long night.  
   
I knew he and the Colonel had a special, if odd, kind of friendship. But if I had withdrawn when things had gone badly, the Colonel had done almost the opposite: he and Daniel had always argued, but over the past year or so they had had some really bad ones. I was a little surprised sometimes that they still spoke to each other at all. I knew that the Colonel would die for any of us, probably Daniel first and foremost, but lately they seemed to be at odds far too often.  
   
Me, on the other hand—even if I had pulled into myself a little, people outside the team knew that Daniel and I had a bond. They still called us The Wonder Twins. A few weeks before this mission, I overheard the Colonel call us Jan and Jace when he thought I wasn't within earshot; Ferretti laughed. It took some Internet research to find out what that meant (made harder by the fact that I tried "Jays" first)—and that's when I found out who the original Space Monkey was. I couldn't remember ever hearing of this cartoon, _Space Ghost_ , but apparently it had a bit of a fan following. I found images on the Internet, too.  
   
I'd told Daniel, who then blew the Colonel's mind by calling him Space Ghost once, just after a briefing had ended. The Colonel's mouth dropped open, Daniel flashed him a smile, and Teal'c asked us to explain. Daniel took off, the Colonel went after him a moment later, and I was left to try to explain the joke to our Jaffa friend. Teal'c is familiar with cartoons, but he had a hard time making the connections that the Colonel apparently had. It got worse when he realized that the Colonel had compared Daniel to two _different_ characters; I never should have thrown in Jan and Jace. Teal'c also seemed puzzled that the Colonel hadn't found a way to fit _him_ into the characters, and I couldn't explain that at all. How do you tell Teal'c that he can't be Jan _or_ Jace _or_ Space Monkey?  
   
So how come the Colonel could understand what Daniel was trying to say—trying to convey—when I was getting hung up on the rules of proper charades? I was both relieved that the understanding which only he and the Colonel seemed to share in our first couple of years as a team was still there, or back again; and hurt that _I_ didn't have it. I knew even that night that it was silly to feel hurt, but _I_ wasn't the one who was always yelling at Daniel lately. Why couldn't I understand?  
   
   
   
   
Just after dawn, Troyan came and told us with some satisfaction that the perpetrators had been identified and had confessed. He even inquired after Daniel, who still sounded a little like an obscene phone caller even in his sleep. The Colonel was a little short with Troyan, but he did tell him that Daniel would be fine, and that we would return when we could.  
   
Then we had to wake Daniel, who was now stiff and sore and clearly wanted to complain. I was just relieved to see him in good enough shape to _be_ annoyed. There are far worse things. He couldn't use his right hand at all; it was well-bandaged, and the skin had tightened overnight. He was probably still at risk of infection despite my attempt to clean the abrasions.  
   
I gave Daniel another injection of steroids, but he refused any painkillers when the Colonel asked, and I quietly cautioned that it might be best to let Janet decide which ones were safe with his breathing problems. When the Colonel offered to accompany him to the latrines, Daniel gave him a dirty look and shouldered very carefully past him. Teal'c simply followed Daniel in silence.  
   
We weren't making coffee as we weren't sure what effect a warm drink, or caffeine, might have on Daniel. We weren't even eating breakfast because we weren't sure it was safe for him to try to get something down his throat, and it seemed rude to eat when he couldn't. I stuffed an energy bar in my mouth as soon as Daniel was out of sight, but the Colonel refused to eat anything.  
   
"Ready to go, campers?" the Colonel said at their return with forced cheer. I offered Daniel some more water. He seemed to be staring at me as he handed back the canteen, and I realized a little granola was clinging to my chin. I brushed it off, embarrassed.  
   
The Colonel put me on point, keeping Teal'c at the end in case anyone from the village came after us, I guess. He stayed as close to Daniel as he could. I set a slow pace because Daniel was obviously still tired. It was too bad they didn't have any pack animals or carts; we could have used them.  
   
The Colonel tried a few times to start a conversation, but as Teal'c isn't much for small talk and Daniel obviously couldn't participate, he let it go. His one attempt at humor involved an obvious remark about how he could talk and Daniel would just have to listen, and Daniel simply stopped walking and stared at him. I realized this and stopped. We all stared at each other for long moments. "Sorry," the Colonel muttered, unusually for him, and then we could continue. I guess Daniel can be pretty expressive even without talking.  
   
It was a long walk. Half an hour somehow became 45 minutes. The Colonel tried to make us take a break, but Daniel made a huffing noise that clearly signaled unhappiness, and he then followed that with obvious attempts not to cough. The Colonel decided it would be safest to get him back to Janet, who was probably going to have all our heads anyway. I wasn't sure exactly what we should have done, but I was pretty sure that whatever it was, we hadn't done it.  
   
   
   
   
We stayed in that formation walking down the ramp. General Hammond greeted us with his standard "Welcome home, SG-1," though he looked puzzled at our early return. When his puzzlement changed to surprise and even shock, I looked back. Our walk had all been in the shade. Daniel looked awful in the bright light of the Gateroom. The General's look quickly changed to concern, and he called for a medical team. The Colonel took Daniel's arm and pulled him gently down to sit on the ramp, and he gave in.  
   
"What happened, Colonel?" the General asked.  
   
"Oh, you know, the usual. Daniel apparently interrupted a killing spree, and he got hurt. Then the local bigwig decided we had done it, so Daniel had to act out what had really happened, because he can't talk now, having been strangled and all. So they found the killers, thanks to Daniel, the local bigwig thinks we're great, and Daniel still can't talk."  
   
Daniel kept his eyes fixed on the floor. He just looked tired now, not even irritated. The General seemed at a loss for follow-up questions, but I'm sure he wasn't any more fooled by the Colonel's flippant tone than I was. Soon we were in the infirmary—three of us having standard post-mission checks, Daniel being carted off somewhere for tests. Nurses told us after a bit to go shower, that we'd have plenty of time before Janet got back to us, and that Daniel wasn't in any danger. They brushed off the Colonel's questions and complaints, so I knew Daniel must be all right.  
   
We all got back to the infirmary before Janet was done, of course, and waited until they rolled Daniel back in on a gurney. He looked terrible in the bright fluorescent lights, and at first I was afraid the nurses had misled us. His face was bruised, but it was his neck that looked really shocking. If anything, the careful cleaning his injuries had received heightened the contrast with his unbruised skin. His right hand was completely bandaged, along with the first three fingers on the left. But a pad of paper and a pen were in Daniel's left hand, and the pad had a couple of pages flipped over already. Daniel had obviously done some communicating.  
   
"So?" the Colonel demanded.  
   
"Daniel will be fine," Janet answered as she directed the orderlies to bring him to his usual place in the infirmary. "He did suffer some throat trauma, but Major Carter's injections helped minimize the swelling, and we're starting him on some strong anti-inflammatories." She gave me a little smile. "He'll be up and around tomorrow; I'm really just keeping him here today for observation," she raised her voice a little, "and to make _sure_ he gets rest. No work today." Those words weren't directed at us. Daniel started writing awkwardly with his left hand in spite of the bandages. "No arguments!" Daniel held up the pad: he'd written one word, "Debriefing," in large, shaky letters across a whole page.  
   
"I think the rest of your team can inform the General at this point, Daniel," Janet said mildly. "You do need rest." More slow writing. I was surprised Janet let him, but he was hooked up to an IV, and I suspected he wouldn't be writing much longer.  
   
"How about his other injuries?" I asked. "His hands?'  
   
"That right hand won't be usable for a few days, I'm afraid. We're putting him on antibiotics, but the skin needs some time to heal. Fortunately, there wasn't any serious muscle or nerve damage." Daniel made a face; the Colonel was looking at Janet and couldn't see Daniel at that moment, but he grimaced at the same time. "I know it hurts," Janet added sympathetically. "But as I've told Daniel already, he'll have full use of it again soon."  
   
He held up the pad: "Slept well—ask Sam or Jack."  
   
"If you slept well," the Colonel asked, "how do you know _we_ know?"  
   
"Don't answer that," Janet admonished. "You can keep the pad to write _important_ things—"  
   
"Like 'I have to go to the bathroom' or 'I really need a sponge bath,'" suggested the Colonel a little too brightly, cutting her off.  
   
"I was thinking more along the lines of 'Ice chips, please?' or 'I need peace and quiet," Janet said, looking straight at the Colonel.  
   
"Or 'I could use some company?'" the Colonel said in return. Daniel started writing.  
   
Janet added quietly to us, "It will be several days before he can talk. His throat really needs to heal."  
   
Daniel gave a small, innocent-looking smile and held up his pad as soon as Janet had finished speaking. "Ice chips, please?" the pad read.  
   
"Colonel, don't we have a debriefing to attend?" I asked.  
   
He looked at his watch; he shrugged, but he said, "Daniel, be good for the doc. Doc . . . let me know if he gets out of line." The Colonel was the first out of the room. Teal'c nodded at Daniel before he followed. I looked back to see Daniel gently waving his left hand with a small smile on his face.  
   
   
   
   
The Colonel's account in the debriefing started out as comedy. I knew at some level that it was relief at Daniel's good prognosis that made him act that way, but the General was not amused. Part of me was insisting that it would all seem funny, some day, but I was trying to shut that part up. This was so not funny. Not now, anyway. Teal'c sat in silence, wearing that constipated look he used to get often during the first couple of years we knew him.  
   
Finally the General finally said, "Colonel O'Neill, I cannot _imagine_ why you are taking this attack on Doctor Jackson so lightly!"  
   
The Colonel started visibly. He looked down at the table, then at his hands, which were gripping the edge of the table; I hadn't noticed that until then. After a moment, he answered in a quiet, calm voice, "Because my other choice, General, was to kill the people who did this, and I didn't think that was really an option. Sir." His account after that was much more terse.  
   
   
   
   
After the debriefing, we all went straight to the infirmary again. Daniel was awake, to my surprise, and he gave us another weak wave. "So, how's it going, Daniel?" the Colonel asked. "And don't say fine!" Daniel had started to pick up a pen but dropped it again. "That good, huh?" the Colonel muttered as he sat down on the edge of the empty bed next to Daniel's. "Well, the debriefing went _much_ faster than usual, but I'm sure you can still submit a lengthy report." He paused for effect. "When you can type again."  
   
"It's not nice to make fun of someone who can't talk, Colonel!" I said in exasperation.  
   
"Nice?" The Colonel was doing his best to look genuinely wounded. "Has anyone ever said I was _nice_?" He looked accusingly from Daniel to Teal'c, who was stationed near the foot of the bed, and then to me. "I'm a Colonel in the United States Air Force, for God's sake! I'm not _supposed_ to be nice!"  
   
I opened my mouth but was cut off, which is probably just as well, because I was going to be not nice myself. It had been a long day already, even though it was just late afternoon here and still morning on the planet we'd left. "Do you know how many years I've spent in Black Ops?" I tried to answer but was cut off again. Fine. "Of course you don't! Because it's classified!" That couldn't be true; the _dates_ of his Black Ops weren't classified, were they? Well, it could have been worse; at least he hadn't seized upon my words as allowing him to make fun of Daniel when he can talk. Of course, it's not as if he needs my permission to do that.  
   
He was ignoring Daniel writing something and then trying to hand him the pad, probably deliberately, so Daniel whacked him with it in the elbow, then shook out his left hand a little. At least half a dozen pages had been flipped over; obviously, he'd been "talking" a good deal. I stepped behind the Colonel to read over his shoulder. The pad had on it: _annoyance > increased resp > swelling_  
 _Jack=annoyance_  
   
"O'Neill, you must leave at once," Teal'c said authoritatively while I was still working out what Daniel meant; his abbreviation for "respiration" gave me some trouble. Teal'c moved closer to the Colonel. I don't think he was serious, but with Teal'c it's often hard to be sure.  
   
The Colonel glanced quickly between Daniel and Teal'c and then smiled again. "I'll be good," he said. "Promise."  
   
I filled in Daniel a little more: "We gave General Hammond a brief description of what happened and why you want to go back, Daniel, but we're going to meet with him again tomorrow so that you can tell him what you learned—as best you can." "Tell" was maybe not the best word choice here.  
   
Daniel looked at the Colonel. The Colonel's words were so predictable that I mouthed them along with him from my position behind the Colonel: "Hey, I was getting to that part!" I was dead on, except that I mouthed "bit" instead of "part." Daniel had shifted his gaze back to me almost at once, and he gave me a big grin that immediately turned to a grimace on his cracked lips. The Colonel turned and looked at me suspiciously, but too late to catch anything.  
   
I figured I might as well rise to the occasion. "You were doing so well at understanding Daniel last night, Colonel, that you should be able to help him out in the meeting tomorrow." Daniel nodded, enthusiastically for a second, and then more carefully.  
   
"Jeepers," the Colonel muttered. "Ya know, Daniel, if only you'd bothered to add standard military hand signals to your collection of languages, things'd be a lot easier," the Colonel said.  
   
I knew that the Colonel dealt with tension by making jokes, but that was just wrong. Daniel had learned the signals; he just preferred not to use them himself, and really, how often did he need them?  
   
Daniel began scribbling busily, with the pad at an odd angle so that the Colonel couldn't see it. The Colonel, naturally, started to lean over to see. Daniel started leaning to the right. The Colonel leaned further; so did Daniel. The Colonel stood up to lean farther over the bed; Daniel stuck his bandaged right hand in the Colonel's face. I went around to the other side of the bed, and he handed the pad to me so that I could read aloud, with great satisfaction, "Mil sign for 'attacker was female w/long brown hair & red skirt of fine cotton'?"  
   
The Colonel thought for a moment. "Maybe I should review the hand signals myself."  
   
Before anyone could reply, Janet appeared and told us that Daniel needed more sleep, then shooed us all out. In an even lower voice than usual, Teal'c said something about going to the gym and gave the Colonel a dark look before he took off. The Colonel waited for Teal'c to leave in an elevator before he punched the "up" button again.  
   
"Huh," said the Colonel once Teal'c was gone. "I think I should probably avoid the gym right now. What do you think?"  
   
As politely as I could, I said, "Well, you know, sir, Teal'c has a point. I mean, we all know you deal with things by cracking jokes, but shouldn't you—couldn't you go a little easier on Daniel?"   
The Colonel looked at me like I'd just suggested he take up knitting. "If I do that, Carter, he'll think he'll never recover and we just haven't told him yet!" It scares me a little that that made perfect sense to me. Our elevator arrived, and we got in. He blew out a breath. "I'm gonna go write up a preliminary report. You might do the same—get it over with." He punched the floor buttons. He didn't say anything more after that, just tapped a hand nervously against his leg until it was time to get off.  
   
   
   
   
I made sure my samples all made it to the appropriate labs before going to my own. I found it hard to write my initial report. Daniel's breathing had still sounded harsh in the infirmary. I thought of our last encounter with _Space Ghost_. I had tried to find the old cartoon on cable, but I couldn't. Instead, there was a talk show, of all things: _Space Ghost Coast to Coast_. It sounded bizarre, but I'd invited Daniel over. We had popcorn and settled down to watch. No Colonel, no Teal'c, just us—Jan and Jace. Or was it Jace and Jan? I couldn't remember who was which.  
   
Only the twins didn't appear in the talk show version. We discovered that Space Ghost was in prison—for assault. When he told the other characters, "Let he who has _not_ assaulted his teenage sidekicks cast the first stone," Daniel inhaled popcorn. I thought I was going to have to do the Heimlich Maneuver, but pounding him on the back seemed to be sufficient. We missed the rest of the episode as I alternately checked to be sure Daniel was all right and was overcome by giggles, and he alternately coughed, choked, and laughed. We never watched again. My real disappointment was that we didn't get to see the original Space Monkey, Blip. I don't think we ever referred to Space Ghost in the Colonel's presence again. I was afraid if I did, Daniel would choke again.  
   
I finally got a report drafted. I checked on Daniel again before going home for an early evening, but he was asleep. A nurse was shoving sheets of yellow paper into a large manila envelope. Daniel had obviously begun tearing pages off the pad as the used parts got too thick. She saw me and beckoned me over. "He's fine; he's just tired. I'm sure Doctor Frasier will let him out tomorrow. Did you want to shred these?" She waved the envelope. "They were private conversations; we kept the visits short, but he had several visitors," she said quickly but quietly. "We shouldn't keep them, and I don't want to think what might happen if one of the Marines got hold of them." She glanced around quickly. "I haven't had a chance to take care of them myself." I agreed, and she went back to Daniel's bedside to record some things on his chart.  
   
I nearly walked straight into Colonel O'Neill rounding the corner as I left the infirmary. "Taking work home?" he asked, seeing my jacket over my arm and the envelope in my hand. I began to have a clue why the nurse seemed to be in a hurry.  
   
"No, sir." I smiled at him. "I was thinking about it, but I'm gonna run back to my office and leave this there for the morning." I felt guilty as I walked away. I wasn't sure if I was afraid that the Colonel would want to read the pages himself, or that he would stop me from reading them.  
   
I took the pages back to my lab to give them a quick once-over before shredding them. Several looked like they'd been slightly balled up and later straightened out quickly so that they could be jammed into the envelope. I did in fact find several pages of notes on the planet and our visit that he'd want. The writing was shaky and sometimes difficult to read, but he'd need them. I set those aside. I also found some pages from our "conversations" with him earlier: the "Annoyance" page made me smile. Then there were such gems as the page that said:  
Laptop PLZ  
I can type fine—bandages no prob  
Don't let Janet see  
   
There was a page that had YES written very large on one side and NO on the other; he'd probably meant to keep that at his bedside. That way he could flash an answer and wouldn't have to nod or shake his head.  
   
Interspersed on other pages were the occasional refrains:  
Fine  
Fine, really  
and  
FINE circled and underlined repeatedly, in two colors. I realized he'd gotten tired and stopped writing out the word. Closer examination showed several dots of color where he'd just jabbed a pen at the page. How many visitors had he had?  
   
Then one said:  
Tell them not to worry  
No, not while I can't talk  
Jack wd drive me NUTS  
Tomorrow  
   
The guilt I'd felt while escaping the Colonel came back full force. I put the pages back into the envelope and sealed it, placing it under my keyboard. I'd give them to Daniel in the morning. He could decide what should be shredded.  
   
   
   
   
I thought I was early the next morning, but I stopped by my office to collect Daniel's papers, and I was the last of the team into the infirmary. Great; I really didn't want to give the pages back in front of everyone. I decided to hang onto them for the time being.  
   
A curtain was pulled around Daniel's bed, and the Colonel stood with his hands shoved in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet and watching the blank curtain with satisfaction. "We can spring him, Carter," he greeted me. "Doc says he can debrief Hammond if he can keep it short, and then we've all got a day off. I've suggested my place for videos. I mean, we can't leave him on his own; if anything happened, he wouldn't be able to call for help." A sound of pain emerged from behind the curtain.  
   
Janet had been talking to the Colonel and Teal'c. "Daniel, the more you use your throat, the longer it will take to recover!" she called. Daniel came out a moment later, dressed in BDU's and carrying a fresh pad in his left hand. He had pens in his pocket, no doubt.  
   
"This will be an interesting debrief," said the Colonel gleefully as we walked to the elevator.  
   
"I'm surprised she's letting you out so soon, Daniel," I said as we got on the elevator.  
   
Daniel mouthed "fine" at me. We had some time before our debriefing, so I went to my lab while the Colonel and Teal'c accompanied Daniel back to his office.  
   
I hadn't been in my lab all that long when there was a knock at my door. I looked up and Daniel was there, with a little grin on his face and a manila folder in his left hand. He waved awkwardly with his bandaged right hand. I felt for him; honestly, I waved back without thinking. Sympathetic muteness, I suppose. He grinned wider. Suddenly I thought of Harpo Marx, but I decided not to share that thought. I wondered how he had gotten rid of the Colonel and Teal'c so fast, but I didn't want to ask and make him write again. I was sure he'd do enough writing today as it was.  
   
Daniel handed me the folder and motioned for me to open it. A note inside said, "Jack said to review hand signs." I could see a little of the dark outlines of the standard figures through the note. I knew that Daniel had learned the hand signs after the time the Reetou got into the SGC and the Colonel had tried unsuccessfully to use them with Daniel. True, I'd never seen Daniel use them himself, but I was sure he understood them. Puzzled, I looked at Daniel. "You want me to help you review. . . ?" He was shaking his head. He motioned to flip the page. I turned over his note and saw the diagrams. As soon as I turned my face back to him, he pointed down. At the captions. Then I realized.  
   
The usual military hand signal for "Me" had "Did you mean me?" written under it. Instead of "Come," one read, "Looks Clear—No Need To Be Quiet." I giggled. The OK sign for "I understand" was captioned, "I Have Been Hit (showing approximate size of hole)." The bottom of the page had a URL on it; Daniel had printed it off the web. "My God, Daniel, these are great!" He was grinning broadly now. He pointed to "Wedge Formation," which now read, "This Gear Is Heavy; My Lower Back Could Use a Massage." I must have been grinning just as much as he was once I realized what fun we could have with these. But if I ever got confused in the field. . . . Nah. Not a chance. And it was worth the risk.  
   
I gave Daniel the envelope with his papers. He smiled at me and mouthed, "thanks." I don't think it ever crossed his mind that I might have looked through them. At least I had stopped before I saw anything too personal, I thought. But maybe that was because there wasn't anything too personal? For someone who talks a lot, Daniel manages to avoid the personal realm pretty well. He has good company on this team, though.  
   
   
   
   
A little more than an hour later, General Hammond joined us at the briefing table and greeted Daniel especially warmly. He added how sorry he was that Daniel couldn't talk.  
   
"I know! A briefing just isn't the same without. . . ." the Colonel started, but looks from all of us silenced him. He shrugged and looked down at his hands.  
   
"Son, I've already got the outlines of what happened from your teammates. But there were some things we really needed you to tell us. First, what motivated this attack? Do you have any idea? Because apparently Councilor Troyan wouldn't share much information with your teammates."  
   
Daniel frowned and spread out the used yellow sheets in front of him, keeping the new pad at his left elbow. He fumbled through the pages a bit, hampered by having almost all his fingertips bandaged. Suddenly the Colonel jumped up and got Daniel a glass of water while Daniel started to write. As he finished a page, he'd pass it to me—not to the Colonel. I was ridiculously pleased by this, even if I was sitting right next to him and the Colonel was across the table.  
   
"No one would tell me what the tensions were," I read slowly from a piece of paper that actually said, in still-shaky handwriting as his writing with the left hand really wasn't improving, especially while three fingers were still wrapped: "No 1 wd tell me what the tensns were." I picked up a little speed as I went on. "but some people were obviously not happy that I entered the House of Learning." I hesitated a little over "trad'l'sts" but then read "Traditionalists thought no outsider should hear stories. I thought Troyan was on their side, but now I think I was wrong."  
   
"I knew there were arguments, and I had to wait a while before they'd tell me much at all, but then Ritanu told me her apprentice would sing me some of the first stories she had learned. They would discuss later how much I could learn."  
   
"Hey!" the Colonel interrupted. "You didn't tell us that was an apprentice! We thought you were getting the Broadway version, not the road show!"  
   
Daniel was already writing something else, but he dropped the pen to point to himself in a gesture that I recognized from the print-out he'd given me: "Did you mean me?" I choked back a giggle.  
   
"Well, who else would I mean?" the Colonel sighed. I stiffened a little, thinking he was on to us, but of course Daniel's gesture could simply mean "me?" It was a little disingenuous, but that was Daniel. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice my slight start.  
   
Daniel handed me another sheet, this one written the night before, and I read, "I think Ritanu called in everyone—Singers, apprentices, assistants—to confer last night. I could see them as I came up to the porch—a couple were already there, another few coming up the steps."  
   
"Okay, this part we know." The Colonel shifted restlessly.  
   
"Well, let Doctor Jackson tell it," the General said, mistaking the Colonel's discomfort for impatience. " _I_ haven't heard it from him, and you apparently got the whole thing in mime."  
   
"Lacked the makeup for mime," the Colonel said. "And he made noise a few times, too." He turned to Teal'c: "You're familiar with the art—"  
   
"Colonel!" I think the look on Teal'c's face would have silenced the Colonel even if the General hadn't said a word.  
   
"Sorry, sir."  
   
I resumed reading. "It was dusk and they probably couldn't see me. I saw newcomers greet the others with hugs, but then I saw a struggle." I couldn't help but notice that Daniel's handwriting was even worse on this page. That was only natural: he'd seen five people murdered, some of whom he'd gotten to know already. "It was hard to make out at first; I started to radio Jack and ran forward. They'd slipped nooses over people's necks. I shouted and jumped the rail—stairs too far. The one closest to me was nearly dead. I slipped my hand under the noose and tried to pull it away, but one of the others kicked me in the crotch while he"—some words were crossed out here—"finished killing his victim. He dropped that person and grabbed me as I was getting to my feet. Soronu, who was in that noose, stopped fighting before I could get back to her." The sheet of paper ended; Daniel was still finding the next one. They seemed to have fallen out of order.  
   
"Take your time, son," said General Hammond. We sat in an awkward silence for a few moments.  
   
But soon Daniel handed me the next page and put his arms around himself carefully, hunching a little over them. "Ritanu tried to run when they attacked me, but I lost track of her. The other attacker did something, and my hand came out of the noose; I think they retightened it around that victim's neck before I could get it back in. I was fighting someone, a man, and he punched me until I fell again. Then suddenly there was a rope around my neck. I got my hand back in before he pulled it tight, and then there was noise. I couldn't make it out well. It must have been Jack and the others coming. The attackers ran. I went over to Ritanu but she was already gone."  
   
There was a long silence as we digested Daniel's account. The Colonel was the one to break it. "So they killed these people for telling you _history_?" Daniel nodded. His eyes were on the table, his shoulders hunched, his face a little flushed. I realized that he was ashamed. I put a hand on his shoulder.  
   
The Colonel sucked in a couple of quick breaths. I thought he was about to start shouting, but he was looking at Daniel, and he could see what I saw. He stood up, knocking his chair out of the way and plunging his hands deep into his pockets, and he walked to the window to look down at the Gate. Teal'c was absolutely motionless, looking at a spot on the wall over my shoulder. The General himself didn't seem to have anything to say.  
   
"You'd think they could have found a better way to conduct an argument," the Colonel said at last.  
   
Daniel had picked up the pen again during the silence, but he didn't fidget with it, as he usually did. Now he wrote: "I don't know why they didn't just kill me." I read it aloud over his shoulder while he was still writing, tripping over the last two words.  
   
"Daniel—" the Colonel's response was almost a gasp as he turned back towards the table.  
   
I read as he wrote more: "They killed five people: two Elders, two apprentices; one assistant, just someone who worked at the House, cleaning or something."  
   
" _Nobody_ needed to die," the Colonel said to Daniel urgently, coming back to the table and looming over it. "Don't think for a minute this is your fault!" He waved a finger at Daniel, who looked up a little and started to write again. The Colonel actually reached for the pen, but the General grabbed his wrist even before Teal'c could.  
   
Daniel hunched over the pad wrote something but crossed it out hard. After a long moment, he wrote something that he passed to me: "You're right. No one should have died."  
   
"And you're not responsible if some maniac kills people for talking to you," the Colonel pressed.  
   
Daniel hesitated and then, taking the pad back from me, he wrote, "Not maniac. Political division."  
   
Seeing a chance to pull Daniel out of his guilt, I asked, "So why did Troyan go after the attackers?"  
   
Daniel shrugged, but he wrote a little more. "I don't think he was on their side. I think he just didn't like us."  
   
"Imagine that," came a deep voice from the other side of the table. Teal'c was still again, his face as impassive as if he hadn't spoken at all, but he was looking at the Colonel.  
   
General Hammond waited a few moments, then shifted in his seat a little as no further words came from Teal'c. I think he wasn't quite sure how to take the comment. General Hammond hasn't been present for much of Teal'c's humor. "So, Doctor Jackson, do you recommend continued contact with these people, given their apparent internal divisions?"  
   
Daniel started rifling through the pile in front of him. The Colonel began to drum his fingers on the table. Teal'c's head turned ever so slightly to watch the Colonel's fingers. The drumming slowed and then stopped. Daniel finally pushed a piece of paper in front of me. He'd already written the answer to this one.  
   
I read, "I believe the people of P3B-494 mostly want to exchange information. Troyan and his people were quick to move against attackers. Attackers acted in secret—doubt they have wide support. We might learn something valuable from ongoing talks, and we certainly have things we can trade. They lack animals. Largest animals on planet are dogs. We can introduce larger stock—could lead to great advances as they have more leisure from farming."  
   
While I read that, Daniel was scribbling something more, and as soon as he handed it to me, I added, "We left suddenly. I think SG-1 should be the team to return, as soon as we can, to cement relations before another team takes over for the long run."  
   
"Very well, Doctor Jackson," said the General with a smile. "I look forward to a more detailed report as soon as—when you're feeling a little better. I will certainly consider your recommendation. I do think you should take advantage of the time off you have. You aren't really in any shape to work; take some time to recover." The meeting ended, and Daniel gave me little wave as if he were pushing an insect away from his head.  
   
"File formation?" the Colonel asked in clear puzzlement.  
   
"Daniel's been practicing the hand signals as you asked, sir," I said with a straight face _I_ couldn't believe I kept. "I think he still gets them a little mixed up." Then, struck by inspiration, I added, "His papers! He wants me to help put them back in order. File formation," I repeatedly slowly. I did not, of course, tell the Colonel that Daniel had just signed to me "We're outta here."  
   
   
   
After I wrapped up some things in my lab and Teal'c helped Daniel collect a few items to bring with him, we all went to the Colonel's for lunch. The Colonel was adamant that Daniel could not remain alone while he was unable to communicate. "Plus," he said to me once I got to his house, "he'd probably go nuts, all alone, not even able to talk to his fish." He said this while walking towards the phone to order Chinese, so his back was to us. I opened my mouth to argue with the Colonel, but Daniel gave me the "Be quiet for once in your goddamned lives, already" sign. Teal'c could see it but wisely did not ask, though he must have seen me shaking with contained laughter. Teal'c's very good that way. If he asks an awkward question, you know he means to bother you. Usually. I think.  
   
Daniel was only cleared for soft foods. Janet had specifically banned pizza, bagels, and a number of other things. The Colonel ordered wonton soup, arguing that hot and sour would irritate Daniel's throat, though spicy foods were not specifically banned. He refused to order egg rolls or anything with, as he put it, "sharp vegetables."  
   
The Colonel then reread the list of foods before going to get the Chinese and gleefully suggested substitutes. "Who needs bagels? Donuts!" He used that Homer Simpson voice that I'd gotten tired of a good three years ago. "She lists dry cereals, but I'm sure if you soak your chocolate-frosted sugar bombs in milk long enough, they won't count." Daniel must have been getting a headache from rolling his eyes so much. The Colonel tried to get me to go for the Chinese, but I announced I had to hit the head and promptly did, so the Colonel left, quite loudly. We'd at least bought Daniel a few minutes of freedom from his overprotective, and sometimes overbearing, host.  
   
When I came out of the bathroom, Daniel was setting up his laptop. Teal'c had brought it. I was surprised Janet hadn't banned it, but I found the instructions where the Colonel had dropped them on the coffee table, and "laptop" wasn't there. I think she spent so much time detailing what foods he wasn't to eat that she forgot to ban working.  
   
He opened a new document and started trying to type with his left fingers only. The right hand was too tightly bandaged to use, so he only had the left. The bandaged fingers on his left hand, however, were still a little big for the slightly reduced keyboard, and he kept hitting extra keys. I think he was trying to type, "See? I can type!" but he ended up with "see/ I cvan tyope" even after backspacing several times. He slammed the laptop shut. Teal'c put it in the Colonel's spare room to delay the inevitable shouting when the Colonel realized that Daniel had brought work home, and Daniel brought out the pad and pen again.  
   
   
   
   
Lunch was a nightmare. As usual, the Colonel dumped a bag of chopsticks and soy sauce packets in the center of the table, and Daniel grabbed chopsticks. I knew it was a mistake. I'm sure Teal'c knew it was a mistake. But only the Colonel decided to _say_ that it was a mistake, that Daniel's hand was already tired from all he'd been doing, and that he didn't need to strain it more by using chopsticks when he'd never used them with his left hand before. He was right, but that didn't matter. He said it all so loudly and at such length that I was sure nothing but death or a really strong muscle relaxant was going to get those chopsticks out of Daniel's left hand.  
   
I was mistaken about that. When the Colonel handed him a bowl of soup, Daniel put down the chopsticks to pick up a spoon, and the Colonel tried to grab them—and Daniel tried to grab them back. He made a hiss of pain as the wooden sticks slipped through his left hand. Colonel O'Neill immediately dropped the sticks on the table and nearly banged heads with me as we both leaned over the table to look at Daniel's hand.  
   
"O'Neill!" Teal'c reproached him. I was about to start a longer speech but figured the Jaffa death stare was better than anything I could come up with. The Colonel apologized while I checked Daniel's hand; he then set down the chopsticks in the middle of the table and continued opening items. Daniel was giving him the wounded puppy look, but it didn't work, as the Colonel was quite deliberately not looking at him. I've never been sure whether Daniel knows how he looks when he does that and deliberately manipulates us, or honestly doesn't realize. I couldn't actually find anything wrong with Daniel's hand, so I just murmured something about being careful and tried to add my own glare at the Colonel.  
   
No one started eating until Daniel did. We all watched as he got a spoonful of soup safely to his mouth. By the second spoonful, he'd realized that we were watching him, so we immediately all bent to _our_ bowls.  
   
"It's kinda hot, isn't it, Carter?" the Colonel asked me with a note of real concern. Daniel's glare looked like it could burn a hole in the side of the Colonel's head. Talk about hot.  
   
"I think it's fine, sir," I said cautiously. As long as Daniel didn't scald his throat, I wasn't going to intervene.  
   
We got through the soup all right, but almost the only sounds were us sipping—or in some cases slurping—our soup. The Colonel made some lame attempt to talk about sports, but no one answered him. I started to ask a couple of questions about the planet but I realized that even though I wasn't planning to address Daniel, he would be the one to answer under normal circumstances.  
   
The chopsticks were a mistake, all right. Daniel does great with them in his right hand; you'd think he grew up using them. He's so comfortable with them that he tends to make the same broad gestures when he's talking while using them that he does without them, so I never sit to his right when we're having Chinese. But his left hand just isn't as coordinated, and it was already fatigued from doing all the things his right hand normally does. His food kept falling back on his plate. It would have fallen in his lap if he hadn't hunched over the plate. The Colonel had gotten out forks and shoved one directly in front of him. He glared at the Colonel. Then he glared at me and Teal'c for good measure, which is when I realized that both of us had stopped eating to watch Daniel's struggles. I started to eat, fast.  
   
Teal'c had had enough of the Colonel, but he'd had enough of Daniel too. "DanielJackson," he said moderately, "I believe you will be more successful with a fork." I could have told him not to say it, but of course he didn't ask me.  
   
I swear that was the longest lunch of my life. I've had worse dinners (one involved a spectacularly bad blind date), but Daniel did not put down the chopsticks until he was done eating. And it took him over an hour. Everything must have been stone cold by the time he finished. I finished and went back to the bathroom and stayed there a while, because it had started to seem funny to me, and I did _not_ want to laugh at Daniel. He'd forgive me eventually, I knew, but I wasn't sure how long a wait it would be. I sat on the closed toilet and shook with the giggles I was holding in. I almost forgot to flush before leaving, but with a former Black Ops Colonel and a Jaffa, I figured I'd better do a good job of pretending. Of course, they might have remembered that I'd just been in there while the Colonel was going for the food.  
   
When I came back out, the Colonel and Teal'c had finished eating—well, they'd finished before I went in—and were both trying to look like they were not watching Daniel, who by now was keeping his eyes on his plate. You would think that a veteran Jaffa and an experienced Black Ops colonel could watch more covertly, but no. No one had said anything for a good half an hour. I know it's rude to clean up while people are still eating, but I got the empty containers and the soup bowls off the table. I wasn't going to sit there. Daniel finally set down the chopsticks, and the Colonel gave a big sigh of relief.  
   
"Okay! Movie time!" the Colonel said as he jumped to his feet. "Do you want something from my collection, or should we go rent something?" He looked at Daniel, who was very, very carefully wiping his bandaged hands on a couple of napkins. Daniel had to go back to the other room for his notepad. We followed soon after to find that he had already written down a few things. He handed the pad to the Colonel.  
   
"Elizabeth?" the Colonel frowned. "Which one? Taylor?" Daniel snatched the pad back and underlined it, awkwardly balancing the pad on his right arm without using his hand to hold it. He gave it back to the Colonel. "Okay, so you _really_ like Elizabeth."  
   
"No, sir," I said calmly, trying to look over the Colonel's shoulder, though he was making that difficult. Nothing could be worse than lunch; I could handle this. "The underlining indicates a title. It's a movie called _Elizabeth_. About the queen."  
   
"Hmph. Okay. And what's next? Is this a title? _Sex, Nets, and Lies_?" Daniel snatched the pad back, looking from it to the Colonel in absolute disbelief.  
   
I tried to help. That was a mistake. The only movie I could think of with a similar title popped out. " _Sex, Lies, and Videotape_?" The pad was suddenly two inches from my eyes, and Daniel was making funny noises. "Oh! Look, sir, it's not even three words! It's _obviously Secrets & Lies_!" I handed it to the Colonel and prided myself on a quick recovery. I was on Daniel's good side again. In the Colonel's defense, it really was nearly illegible.  
   
"Oh. Well, that sounds like fun. Spy movie?" Hearing that, Teal'c looked over the Colonel's shoulder with interest.  
   
I nearly demanded how the Colonel could be the only one who could understand Daniel's dumb show on the planet but then be so dense here, but I already knew the answer. I took the pad back. Daniel had also listed _Gods and Monsters_ and _Kundun_. Okay, Daniel wasn't playing fair either: these were movies the Colonel would never choose. On the plus side, they were all in English; the Colonel always complains when Daniel picks out a film in a foreign language. And they should all be at the video store. None were minor films.  
   
"For God's sake, sir, Daniel's the one who got hurt! Couldn't we just watch what _he_ wants to watch?" If no one else was playing fair, there was no reason why I should—and I'd wanted to see _Elizabeth_ and missed it in the theaters. That, of course, won Teal'c over, so the Colonel was outnumbered and outgunned. He didn't even try to fight after that.  
   
The only problem was that _I_ had to go to the video place, or else God knows what the Colonel might have returned with. I wasn't even entirely sure I could trust Teal'c on his own not to pick out something . . . unexpected. I went alone. I did not feel like arguing with the Colonel, I didn't think Daniel's act was ready to go on the road, and I couldn't take Teal'c because if he came with me, we'd be leaving Daniel and the Colonel alone. It was kind of like the logic puzzle with the dog, the goat, and the corn. Daniel would have quite enough of the Colonel after movie time. The Colonel is a great team leader; there's no one else I'd rather have commanding me in the field. But I can't imagine living with him, even for a few days. There's a reason why I always turn down his invitations to go fishing.  
   
They managed not to harm each other while I was gone, although obviously it would be wrong to say that they were all still speaking to each other when I got back. I returned with _Elizabeth_ and _Gods and Monsters_ , figuring that the Colonel couldn't blame me for anything. I could always pretend I hadn't known what the second one was about.  
   
The movies actually went pretty well. The Colonel complained some but got into them. He tried to rib Daniel some during _Elizabeth_ , which we watched first, but Daniel had a new tactic. He simply ignored the Colonel. Normally, this doesn't work at all. But with Daniel unable to talk and the lights low to see the movie better, the Colonel couldn't expect any kind of response. He couldn't keep provoking Daniel, because even in the dim room we could all see Teal'c's head turning his way when he pushed too far. We ended up watching both movies in what could pass for companionable silence, and thus we were spared the Colonel's comments—and the Colonel was spared having to play dumb through an entire afternoon of good movies, with no bombs or car chases. I decided that Daniel should definitely get to choose the movies more often.  
   
   
   
   
Somehow we got through the next two weeks. It took that long for Daniel to be able to use his voice reliably. In a couple of days his left hand was fine, and then he was typing constantly. Soon after, he was able to use the right hand. He made it hard to misunderstand him, and if anyone tried, they got both the wounded look and the long, typed message of correction that was especially effective when Daniel still had bandages on his hands. The Colonel still managed to misunderstand him several times, but even he was losing interest in doing that.  
   
Teal'c asked about mime, having apparently not encountered it before. The Colonel offered to demonstrate what he called "the fine art of mime," but Teal'c was not impressed. To be honest, I wasn't either. The Colonel couldn't seem to avoid talking for any length of time. Daniel just sat there in silence and smirked. At least the performance cheered him up; he did seem kind of down. Being the only survivor of a small massacre does that to you, I suppose.  
   
The highlight of the two weeks must have been the third day, when Daniel went to the Infirmary. Janet told me this all that evening, in private; she made me swear never to breathe a word of it to my teammates, although Daniel told me his version as soon as he got his voice back. Daniel came in looking very sheepish, with the Colonel hovering so close that he bumped into Daniel when he stopped. Daniel showed Janet a note he'd typed explaining how the Colonel had provoked him and he'd actually tried to yell. Janet knew that Daniel was overdoing the apologetic act. And Daniel, I learned later, knew that Janet knew. But the _Colonel_ didn't know, and he already felt bad enough. Daniel did feel guilty later; I think he told me the whole story so that I would absolve him, and of course I did.  
   
Janet read the Colonel the riot act for provoking Daniel, and Daniel was allowed to move back to his own apartment. He'd found a voice program that made his computer talk so that he could use the phone in an emergency. I gather he then entertained himself by calling the Colonel every evening to give him a detailed progress report using the computer voice. Since he'd been coming back to work since that third day, and the Colonel gave him a ride for a week or so since he wasn't supposed to drive with his hands still healing, the Colonel didn't _need_ a detailed progress report, but that didn't stop Daniel.  
   
There was also the day when we were eating lunch together in the commissary and the Colonel was giving Daniel a hard time. Daniel had left the laptop and brought only his yellow pad; I guess he was tired of carrying the computer, especially while he still had to be careful with his right hand. Daniel was trying to tell me about the work he was doing. We all know that Daniel talks a lot, but I don't think I ever realized before quite how much he really does say. It was taking forever to get down on paper what he could have said in a couple of minutes at most.  
   
The Colonel was baiting him, which made the responses take even longer, because Daniel kept correcting him. First Daniel had to give the name of the people SG-11 had met, which was quite long, and which of course the Colonel made into something completely wrong. So Daniel wrote it again, in larger letters. Then he felt he had to explain that what the Colonel insisted on calling a spittoon was a ritual vessel—and describe the ritual. The Colonel watched Daniel start to write this explanation with a thin smile; I knew he was going to take anything Daniel had written that could possibly be taken as a joke and make it one. I was reading the explanation silently over his shoulder as Daniel wrote and wrote, but the Colonel just looked straight at Daniel, his smile slowly growing.  
   
Daniel kept glancing up at the Colonel while he wrote. Finally, he slowly tore the paper off the pad, using his right hand carefully to make sure all the perforations separated neatly. Then, a little awkwardly, he balled up the paper with his left hand and gently lobbed it across the table, straight into the Colonel's face. Teal'c and I just sat there and watched the ball of paper bounce off the Colonel's nose and land in his spaghetti. There was a moment of silence in which I think everyone in the commissary held their breaths. Then the Colonel picked up the ball of paper with equal care, holding a part that remained untouched by spaghetti sauce, and threw it towards the trash. It was a good shot, except that he didn't take his eyes off Daniel, and so he nailed a Marine who came between him and the trash. The Marine was both quite large and a major. Everyone froze for a moment, all waiting to see if someone else would laugh.  
   
I don't know what would have happened next if someone at a nearby table hadn't choked. Suddenly every person in the commissary not on SG-1 was trying to pound the poor woman on the back, including that huge Marine. I was glad I wasn't her. Daniel went back to writing his account of what he was doing with SG-11's findings, and I tried to pretend nothing had happened, but I have no idea what Daniel wrote after that.  
   
   
   
   
I think in the end, the Colonel was more than paid back for all the Daniel-baiting he did while Daniel couldn't talk. And the payoff, or rather payback, didn't end when Daniel got his voice back. Once Daniel was declared fit, we returned to P3B-494. As soon as we hit the planet it started, though honestly I'm surprised they waited that long.  
   
"I'm staying with Daniel this time, just in case."  
   
"No, Jack! They won't let you into the House of Learning. I even had to turn off my radio last time because you kept calling me on it while I was inside!"  
   
"Which is why I tried to come in to get you, and they liked that even less!" Daniel's face clearly showed that he had no idea what the Colonel's point was, so he elaborated. "I'm staying. Look, I'll stay outside. I won't call in or try to look in. But I'll be right there. God knows if there are other fanatics around. Carter and Teal'c, you collect your samples, or whatever it is you do. We'll meet at our old hovel in the village in three hours," the Colonel concluded before Daniel could object further.  
   
Daniel gave me a little smile and waved his finger in the air. "Rally point!" the Colonel said happily. "You _are_ using the signals!" He seemed genuinely pleased. I almost felt guilty for conspiring to trick him, but not quite. I managed to keep a straight face until they were out of earshot. Then I fell over laughing. Finally I had to explain to Teal'c about the . . . alternate meanings.  
   
"And what did DanielJackson's signal mean?"  
   
"When the Colonel kept insisting he would stay with Daniel?" I said to Teal'c, "That was 'This is what I think of your opinion.'"  
   
   
   
Teal'c and I had been waiting in our old hut for almost an hour before the Colonel and Daniel showed up. Troyan insisted that we eat with the Council, and I was glad the Colonel had set aside some time for us to confer first, though their lateness had eaten up almost all of that time. The Colonel looked a little impatient but was trying to control himself. Daniel looked like he was trying to hide the fact that he was worried.  
   
"Okay, Daniel, now we're all here. Are you going to tell us your little secret?" Teal'c's eyebrows rose, and the Colonel told us, "Daniel has something to tell us all, but he said he only wanted to say it when we were all together."  
   
Daniel sat down cross-legged on a mat and gave a tentative smile. "Well, I found out why the Goa'uld don't come here anymore," he said.  
   
"That's great!" I started, but then I realized why he was worried. "I take it that it's something we can't reproduce back home?"  
   
"You could say that," Daniel replied. "It seems that Baldr protected them. He attacked Goa'uld who were attacking the planet and drove them away. They never came back."  
   
"And Baldr is . . . ?" I could tell from his tone of voice that the Colonel had already figured this one out; I don't know why he bothered to draw it out, and with a tone of exaggerated patience too.  
   
"Baldr is an Asgard," Daniel said, playing with the edges of the woven mat on which he was sitting. "The Goa'uld are afraid to come here because they were completely routed once. But they—the people here—don't know how to get in touch with Baldr. They don't even think of him as a god; they think of him as a kind of messenger of the gods. Apparently, they had a pretty big pantheon in place before the Asgard found this world. Baldr got really friendly with them, and they just kicked out the Goa'uld and stuck Baldr into the pantheon. . ."  
   
"Daniel, why don't you spare your voice and cut to the chase?" the Colonel said more patiently than I would have expected.  
   
"Well, the point is that they have no weapon, no secret we can use to fight the Goa'uld. Baldr didn't leave anything like Thor's Hammer; apparently he just let a few Jaffa crawl away and warn the others. The other Jaffa and Goa'uld died so horribly that it wasn't worth the risk to come back to a marginally useful mining planet. As Sam's initial samples showed, naquada seems to be found here only in traces." Daniel seemed to have stopped, but when the Colonel frowned and opened his mouth to speak, Daniel added, "But the good news is that they have an incredible history! And they've decided that because I tried to save Ritanu and the others, and helped identify the killers, we're entitled to hear all their stories. We may learn about Goa'uld tactics—"  
   
"From centuries ago?" the Colonel interrupted.  
   
"Just over four hundred years ago."  
   
"Goa'uld are slow to change tactics," Teal'c added, to my surprise.  
   
"We've got a former _first prime_ , Teal'c! What the hell do we need with some mythical stories about what the Goa'uld _used_ to do five centuries ago when you can tell us what they did five _years_ ago?'"  
   
"We've got _Apophis's_ former first prime, Jack! The Goa'uld aren't interchangeable! And haven't we learned by now that important truths sometimes lie hidden within 'myths'?"  
   
Daniel was trying really hard to pull some good from this. I wondered how long ago he had heard about the Asgard involvement—how many hours more of stories he got before he had to leave, fearing that telling the Colonel the truth would end the mission at once.  
   
Daniel was still talking about how much we could learn from tales of the Goa'uld four hundred years and more ago. No one was really convinced; I don't think even Teal'c believed this information could be strategically useful. The Colonel was looking at him without amusement, but he didn't actually cut him off. Daniel had only had his voice back for a few days, and Janet had only cleared him to come because he assured her that he would do lots of listening and not a lot of talking. I don't know whether he was really just glad to hear Daniel's voice again or actually had some guilt about all the fun he'd had at Daniel's expense—or tried to have.  
   
"Give it up, Daniel," the Colonel finally said. "Look, I'm sorry you went through so much only to find that there's nothing of value we can learn."  
   
"No value! Jack—"  
   
The Colonel held up a hand to interrupt, but he offered a concession: "No _practical_ value. I'm sure it has _great_ historical value, but _we_ can't _use_ it."  
   
Daniel was still trying to object. "But, Jack, if _we_ don't, no one—"  
   
"We can't get every oral history, Daniel! Look, they managed to replace their Singer of tales—"  
   
"How did they do that, anyway?" I butted in.  
   
"The senior apprentice was away the day of the attack, learning another village's stories," Daniel said quietly, looking down at his now-healed hands, which were unusually still. "He's the only one they have left. He hadn't learned all this village's songs perfectly yet. Some stories, and especially some details, may have been lost."  
   
"Daniel?" I said gently. "It's not your fault."  
   
" _You_ didn't kill those people," the Colonel said more forcefully.  
   
"I know, I know," Daniel said. "I just . . . I can't fix it. I can't undo it. I can't even think what I could have done differently; nobody even told me the disagreement was that serious!" His voice cracked, whether from emotion, the injury, or lack of use over the past couple of weeks I wasn't sure. Probably all three. "I just . . . I want something good to come out of this in the end. Or else those five people died for nothing."  
   
And I'd been thinking he felt guilty for leaving the Colonel bored outside the House of Learning while he heard more stories though he knew they wouldn't really help us. That was when I finally realized that no matter how well I knew Daniel, I'd never get fully inside his head. We have a lot of the same interests, the same excitement—but I don't study people. I don't get to know most of the people we meet. Daniel does. And even though the Colonel is right about him being a geek—not that the Colonel says that anymore, and nobody dares say it in his presence—Daniel gets people in a way that I never will. Occasionally, of course, he's fantastically wrong about someone. But mostly, he's right.  
   
None of us spoke for a moment. The Colonel had taken his gaze off Daniel and was staring out into the distance. Maybe he felt some of what I felt. In some ways he seemed to know Daniel best of all, but in other ways—sometimes he just had no idea what Daniel was going to do. When Daniel beamed up to the Gadmeer ship while we were setting up the bomb, I wasn't really surprised. The Colonel was almost stupefied. He knew Daniel didn't follow orders, or even take suggestions, if he thought he had a better way. But he didn't expect Daniel to go that far. He sure as hell didn't expect Daniel to have a solution. When Daniel solved the whole thing, the Colonel didn't know whether to take his head off for disobeying orders and nearly making _the Colonel_ kill him, or hug him for saving everyone, especially himself. In the end, he yelled at Daniel, but his heart wasn't really in it. In return, Daniel smiled a little, not enough to be smug, just enough to let us know that he knew we cared, and was glad of it.  
   
"So I was thinking. . . ." Daniel started with a sideways glance at the Colonel.  
   
"Oh, God, here we go," the Colonel muttered.  
   
"It's not exactly our _fault_ , but our arrival, and my actions, _did_ precipitate the killing of some of the most important people in this village." The Colonel didn't nod or shake his head, but he looked steadily at Daniel, so Daniel went on. "They lost something invaluable, they lost _people_ , and we can't replace them. But they live on subsistence farming. As I said before, they can't get beyond that with the resources they have."  
   
"We're not giving them John Deeres," said the Colonel flatly.  
   
"Large animals," Daniel said, cutting to the chase with surprising speed for Daniel. He was definitely sounding a little hoarse. "If we give them a decent supply of breeding stock, they can improve their agriculture tremendously. In a few years, they'll have _leisure_ time. For a people with little leisure, they have tremendous culture."  
   
"So you're gonna ask Hammond to send a bunch of cattle? Through the Stargate?"  
   
"I believe a group of cattle is called a 'herd,' O'Neill." Teal'c was nitpicking at the Colonel's objection, so I had an idea of where Teal'c stood. If pressed, he might argue that the Goa'uld brought these people here, away from the animals that would have let their agriculture develop as it might have. I knew Teal'c had sympathy for every people once oppressed by the Goa'uld, which meant much of the galaxy, though he didn't often let it show. But he preferred to let Daniel make the arguments, occasionally backing him up as he saw fit. Daniel didn't usually need much help.  
   
"Cattle would be great," Daniel replied with some enthusiasm. "They can use them to improve plowing, they can get milk from them, and they can use some for meat. With better nutrition. . . ." His voice was definitely getting raspy.  
   
"So you _are_ gonna ask Hammond to send a _herd_ of cattle through the Stargate," the Colonel said. He was not arguing, just stating a fact, though a note of skepticism remained in his voice.  
   
I could see Daniel had more to say. "Give it to us straight, Daniel," I begged. "Your voice isn't going to hold up."  
   
"Okay." He took a deep breath and looked at each of us through the very tops of his glasses, keeping his head down a little. Maybe he expected the Colonel to yell. "I want _all_ of us to ask General Hammond to send a herd of cattle through the Stargate."  
   
I braced for the yelling, but it didn't come. The Colonel fidgeted with the edges of his mat too. They were coming undone a little. There was a long silence. "You write up the proposal," the Colonel finally said, letting go of the mat and ticking things off on his fingers. "I'll sign on if you do all the paperwork. _You_ present it to Hammond, but I'll support it."  
   
"Deal," Daniel said firmly.  
   
"Hey, but what do _we_ get out of this? A warm, fuzzy feeling?" It was a little late to be asking that, wasn't it?  
   
"Another tie to the Asgard?" I suggested. After all, Thor was only intermittently helpful. I'd never heard any mention of this Baldr. Perhaps he would be a little more forthcoming—if he ever came back to check on these people.  
   
"An allied world, like the Land of Light, which has no technology but offers other benefits: a place of refuge to the displaced, temporary shelter for members of the SGC who lose their GDO. . . ." That was a surprisingly long speech from Teal'c. He was on board too.  
   
"I'll take it under consideration," the Colonel said with genuine thoughtfulness. "Let's see how dinner goes."  
   
   
   
   
That's how we ended up with a mission scheduled for next week to bring a herd of cattle through the Gate. Getting them into and through Cheyenne Mountain should be exciting, but thank God I'm not part of _that_ effort—although it might be fun to see the folks at NORAD watching the herd go into the Mountain, never to come out again. As I worked on my report, I was struck by how paltry the results must seem to the men and women (mostly men, I suppose) upstairs who would read it and doubtless find us wanting. But the mission meant a lot more to me than just an unequal trade with a partner who couldn't really help us that much.  
   
And that was also the mission that made Daniel start actually using military hand signals, occasionally even with the official meaning. His voice and hands have both recovered fully, so he can talk and gesture at the same time again. And does he ever.  
   
At some point, the Colonel is going to figure out what Daniel is doing with those hand signs. But it may take him a while, because, being a good solider on an op, I destroyed the evidence. I learned the signs quickly and shredded the print-outs Daniel gave me. Teal'c doesn't use them, but he won't tell. I think he smiles a little when we use them, but it's hard to tell with Teal'c.  
   
Maybe we have had a rash of bad missions, but we pulled some good out of this one, at Daniel's insistence, and we're still a team. We may not _always_ get each other, but we do okay. Better than okay—except when the Colonel decides to mess around. Maybe I don't have the same connection to Daniel as the Colonel does, but that doesn't mean our connection isn't real, and strong. Seeing Daniel working so hard to communicate made me realize that we'd all been having problems communicating, even when we could all talk normally (as normally as the four of us ever do). Sometimes we need to make some extra effort.  
   
The only other lasting effects of the mission seem to be that Teal'c keeps asking to play charades, and he insists we go see professional mimes. I think we can live with that. Daniel did some research and found a company of professional mimes in Boulder, and we're going to see them today, as soon as I finish up a little paperwork. I'll take my own car and give Daniel a ride. The Colonel and Teal'c can enjoy each other's company.  
   
 _FIN_


End file.
